The Myriad Misadventures of Targrin Failser
by themadmanrd
Summary: the unlucky antics of an imperial gaurd colonel.funny sometimes, violent others. my second story. please review. rated T for swearing and extremely violent descriptions
1. Chapter 1

Any and all criticism is appreciated. Please review and suggest improvements. I do not own games workshop or any official trademarks named in this story blah blah blah now let battle commence *blows whistle*

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Chapter 1

"Fire, emperor damn you, FIRE!" screamed Colonel Targrin Failser. He turned away from his waiting forces towards the horde of charging green skins. He sighted down the barrel of his compact bolt pistol (the most precious item of equipment and his most trusted friend). The heavily browed skull of an Ork officer or 'Nob' as they were called by their foul brothers appeared in his sights and he prepared to fire. His grip tightened on the short stubby pistol and the ornate chainsword gripped in his left hand. He prayed for luck, so that his shot would fly true, from the emperor feeling the reassuring weight of his weapons, a reminder of his duty and faith to the living god. His grip tightened once, but it seem Targrin's luck had run out, as his thumb accidentally slipped, flicking the activator stud on his ancient chainsword, revving the powerful engine unexpectedly and nearly causing the weapon to leap from Targrin's hand. The colonel glanced down at the momentary distraction, quickly taking his thumb off the activator stud. He turned his attention to the stampeding Ork horde that was fast approaching his position. In a brief moment of misaligned concentration he pulled the trigger, feeling the satisfying kick of the weapons powerful recoil. His attention now fully on where the bullet was going, Failser noticed that there was no longer the oversized skull of a foul Xenos within his sights….there was however the correct sized skull of the companies commissar.

Company commissar Laden's head was pierced by the explosive bolt just above his left eye. The bolt burrowed its way through his like a Land Raider through a squad of cultists, with similar results. The volatile hydrogen gel held within the bullets outer casing promptly ignited, causing a ball of intensely hot expanding gases to form inside his brain casing. As the temperature increased his brain began to boil. The steam produced at first began to vent through the entry wound but the forces being produced were too great for the unfortunate officer's cranium to hold and it ruptured…explosively. His skull expanded, the bone being bent by the immense forces, but soon the rate of expansion was too great for the brittle bone to hold and the skull shattered along the natural fault lines within the bone. His head became deformed and misshapen so grotesque it made the approaching Orks look attractive. The tortured skull finally shattered, the expanding gases sending lumps of cooked brain, burnt bone, charred skin and other viscera flying outwards. This all occurred within the space of 2 milliseconds, thankfully the commissar had died almost as soon as the bolt had entered his skull.

Failser could only look on in disbelief, his jaw dropping as the commissar was thrown backwards by the immense kinetic force of the bolt. An object was catapulted from the gory detonation and landed square in the conveniently opened mouth of the unlucky colonel. Failser quickly spat it out onto the ground. It was the commissars' right eye. It stared up at him, accusing him.

"FUUUUUUUCK!" screamed the shocked imperial guard colonel, as he stepped backwards, away from the grisly remains, the eyes of the surrounding guardsmen following him, disbelief plastered across their faces. The memories of the Orks were now wiped from their minds as they had just watched the commanding officer seemingly execute the commissar without reason.

This was a mistake. The Orks overran the front lines, with a titanic bellow "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!"

They hacked into the puny guardsmen to the chorus of "ORKS, ORKS, CHOPPA, CHOPPA, DAKKA, DAKKA OOORKS!" for the guardsmen, caught unawares, the casualties were immense.

The day was saved by the timely arrival of a most unexpected ally. A dozen Terminators of the Ultramarine first company materialised out of thin air. They opened fire upon the Orks immediately, pulping great swathes of the enemy with their assault cannons, missile pods, storm bolters and power hammers. The counter attack was short, brutal and resulted in a conclusive imperial victory.

As the final Ork shuddered to the ground and died the Ultramarine officer teleported in. unlike his subordinates he did not appear out of thin air and more like mid-air. He materialised 7 feet in the air… directly above Colonel Failser.

Failser awoke to the bright blue gauntlet of an ultramarine reaching towards his face. He began try to scramble away but the enormous hand snatched out and gripped him by the collar and hoisted him into the air. The gigantic arm lowered and placed him softly on his feet. And he promptly fell to his knees.

"Don't grovel, if there's one thing I can't stand its grovelling" growled the massive ultramarine captain.

"I'm so, so, sorry my lord Cobra" squeaked Failser weakly, as he quickly jumped to his feet, motioning for his command cadre to do the same.

"Don't apologise, every time I try to talk to someone it's sorry this and forgive me that and I'm not worthy" he sighed his voice layered with frustration and boredom "what are you doing now?"

"I'm averting my eyes, Lord Captain"

"well don't its like those miserable Commissar speeches there so depressing," his helmets eye slots seemed to linger on the mutilated corpse of the commissar as he said this, "now knock it off!"

"Yes lord," mumbled the now chastened Colonel.

"Now Failser I have a quest for you"

"A quest, lord?" Failser looked at him incredulously.

"a request. Damned voxponders been on the blink," he growled, and he pulled off his helmet "now I want you to get all guns firing at the Ork positions, everything you've got, even that fancy looking Leman Russ over there," grumbled the gigantic captain, nodding towards an ornate Leman Russ festooned with gold leaf, purity seals and holy symbols.

"But sir that that it the Maynardus, it is our reliquary. It holds the greatest relics of our great regiment. It has no weapons so that it remains clean and sacred."

"well fire your other bloody guns. Then I want these Ork scum wiped from the face of this wholesome planet before they pollute to an even greater degree than they have already. Now get those guns firing before I execute you for obstructing the work of a holy space marine."

Failser whimpered and ran to find his vox operator and quickly instructed them to fire on the Orks. Now because of an unfortunate chain of events involving a tub if grease, several frag grenades, three guardsmen and a small grox the targeting equipment on one piece of artillery equipment was misaligned. And on this very day the most incompetent artillery commander in the entire regiment was in charge. When he received the order to fire upon the Orks he thought Failser meant the Orks that appeared to be attacking the front lines. He assumed the captain knew what he was doing and opened fire. The shells arced up landing in the new repopulated trenches. More were killed then, than were killed in the initial Ork charge. But not all the shells hit their target, one fell short.

As Failser stood with one of his surviving lieutenants, trying to sort out reliable witnesses for the inevitable trial over the debacle with the dead commissar he heard the whistle of an incoming shell. He dived to the ground as the huge shell streaked overhead. He looked up just in time to see the Maynardus immolated.

The precious and ancient Leman Russ disappeared in an enormous fireball. The company's banner, which had survived every battle that it had been carried into, was incinerated. The san griel, which was used when new officers were promoted and which, as it was told in company legend, the emperor drank from melted into a pool of molten slag. A bottle of holy water from the shrinehold of saint Sabbat herself was boiled away in an instant.

Failser looked on in disbelief, his eyes widening in shock. As the realization of what had just happened hit him, tears began to stream down his face. He lowered his head into his hands and began to weep uncontrollably.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Goodbye Old, Hello New

I do not own any games workshop copyrights.

The canon of this story is based around the work of (his holiness) Dan Abnett if anyone disagrees with anything that seems non canon….bite me I right the stories if you don't like it right your own. People who don't disagree please review I would love to hear where I am going wrong and where I need to improve so don't hesitate to criticise and insult.

And yes there is repeated usage of bad puns and awful names and copious amounts of swearing, you have been warned.

Commissar General Carson O'Genic struck the firing stud of his igniter and blinked slightly as a tiny ball of searing plasma blossomed like a miniature sun at the tip. He quickly lit the end of his cigar and extinguished the nuclear fusion reaction. Exhaling a cloud of thick blue smoke he slowly placed the smouldering cigar into an ashtray and picked up a dataslate.

"Now colonel..." he quickly glanced at the slate "ah Failser this is quite a pickle we find ourselves in. now for my benefit explain to me what happened…slowly…and in great detail just so I am sure I know what happened"

"Sir, as I've said before everything is in my report" Failser mumbled.

"Yes I've read it, quite engaging reading actually, but I'd prefer to hear straight from the Grox's mouth as they say" he smiled him , in what was supposed to be a friendly manner but it was clear to Failser that this was the smile of a predator, a hungry one.

Failser quickly began to describe the events of the previous death recounting all the mishaps and mistakes that had lead to him being here. By the end Carson sat staring into space and looking pensive. He took a deep breath "now Failser" again referring to his dataslate for his name "there appears to be some inconsistencies between your account and…what that word… oh yes REALITY" this last word was bellowed at such a volume it would likely have given a noise marine bleeding eardrums. " for instance you claim the commissar under your command was shot by a miraculously fortunate Ork that somehow managed to shoot the poor man in the head from 200 yards and from behind. Yet your report makes no mention of any Ork kommando snipers. And as well as this the head wound was quite clearly the work of a bolt pistol and Orks only ever field the heavy variety. And the only person standing behind the commissar with a bolt pistol was…you" at this Failser began to weep as images of a black bag, a concrete wall, a wooden post and a six man firing squad flashed into his head. They were quickly thrown out again as the commissar general began speaking again "however in the heat of battle mistakes can be made, I know this because I have made them myself friendly fire happens it's why we have black crosses on the names of so many dead guardsmen (AUTHOR: for those who don't know a black cross is placed next to the name of guardsmen that are killed by friendly fire on the register of dead after a battle). However your second mistake is unforgivable" once again the images of firing squad wrestled there way back into his mind "the destruction and desecration of your companies' relics. This is an inexcusable crime that would normally be met with the harshest sentence that it is within my power to give, and this is death by firing squad" Failser began to weep, the images of his upcoming inglorious death filling his mind.

"However" Failser bolted upright and looked at the commissar general like he was a saviour delivered by the God-Emperor himself, "owing to your many years of service to the Immortal God-Emperor…"

"The Emperor protects" Failser blurted out, the response drilled into every Imperial citizen from birth.

"in this case very much so" the predator grin was back "owing to your many years of service you will be allowed to continue to do so." Failser blinked three times in quick succession and then fell to his knees and thanked Carson repeatedly. "of course you won't be allowed to have any command responsibilities" Failser stopped his frenzied thank yous and stared open mouthed at Carson, "you are to be stripped of all rank and possessions and weapons and put through basic training and prepatory so you can learn what a good guardsmen should be like. Now relinquish your weapons please."

Failser stood and unbuttoned his holster and drew his bolt pistol and placed it on the desk in front of him. Reaching behind his head he drew his beautiful chainsword from the scabbard slung across his back. It was an exquisite weapon 4 feet 6 inches of master crafted adamantium. Terminator class ceramite teeth. It was an heirloom of his family passed down from his great great grandfather after he saved the life of an unlucky Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus. His hand lingered on the gold inlaid hilt. There was a small patch of blood he had neglected to clean off. He'd been intending to do it later. Now there would be no later. He sighed as his hand lifted off the cool metal. Carson looked at the weapon with great interest. He reached forward and lifted the glorious weapon. Failser made to say something but realized it was no longer his weapon. The commissar general swung the chainsword above his head and brought it slamming down. He never completed the arc as his hand slipped slippery blood covered hilt and slammed into Failsers face rupturing his eye and crushing the surrounding bone. Failser feel to the ground howling in pain. Carson looked slightly shocked but quickly lost interest. Pressing the stud on his desk intercom he called a medical team to his office. When they entered he told them "get trooper Failser" he lingered on the word trooper making it sound like an insult "fixed up and as soon as he's ready have shipped out to basic training" Failser was dragged out. Carson picked up the bolt pistol with one hand and reached for his cigar with the other before realizing with a curse it had gone out. Placing the pistol down and picked up his igniter. By the time the cigar was once again smouldering the Commissar General had entirely forgotten about the unfortunate Gaurdsmen.


End file.
